


Hilarion's Last Wish

by Methoxyethane



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Ballet, M/M, Pre-Relationship, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Victor pines like a middle school girl
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-31
Updated: 2016-10-31
Packaged: 2018-08-28 07:45:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,260
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8437213
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Methoxyethane/pseuds/Methoxyethane
Summary: Victor finally recognized that Yuuri hadn’t just started to dance without waiting for him. Yuuri had started to dance a pas de deux, performing half a dance with the expectation that Victor would catch up and join him, filling in the empty space Yuuri was leaving for him.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Everything i know about ballet i learned from Princess Tutu and a book titled "Ballet for Beginners" with a bit of obsessive youtubing, so... Grain of salt?

Minako’s dance studio was a quaint little affair, much like everything in this town seemed to be. Victor was used to places that were huge, either full of people and energy and life or seemingly empty from too much space, and this town’s odd ability to have empty rooms that felt warm instead of lonely was consistently charming. This place was no exception - the mirrors lining the wall made the whole space seem larger than it was without losing any of the comfortable worn-in feeling of a well loved room.

The town was not the only thing proving to be consistently charming, of course. “Aren’t you going to warm up?” Yuuri asked, one leg slung high in the air over the barre on the wall as he bent forward to stretch his thigh muscles. Victor took his time to appreciate the sight, humming as though he were considering a great truth instead of the flex of Yuuri’s legs. 

“I suppose I could dance a little, but I really only came to watch you,” he replied honestly, turning away from Yuuri to resume his own abandoned warm-ups. 

Yuuri’s voice had a hint of teasing affection when he answered, a light tone that had taken ages of getting Yuuri more comfortable around him to earn the privilege of hearing. “Lazy,” he chided without turning to Victor. “Just because you’re coaching now doesn’t mean you can afford to slack off. If you let yourself go you won’t be a piglet, you’ll be a whole wild boar.”

Victor laughed, a little breathless from his own position now bent down to his toes. Yuuri may pretend to be put out by Victor following him around half the time, but the truth was the more time they spent together the more relaxed and natural Yuuri learned to let himself act. Which was of course, Victor's main motivation for doing it. Aside from not actually having anything else to do in Japan but stay close to him, Victor's goal had always been to learn as much about Yuuri Katsuki as he was allowed. 

Yuuri was finishing his own stretches, standing up and rolling his neck a little while his foot tapped out to the beat of the song to get a feel for it. Victor tried to focus on wrapping up his own warm up but it was, as ever, so easy to be distracted by Yuuri. This time it was because he had started to dance. 

One arm raised in the air in an elegant fourth crossed position, and Victor watched the smooth downward swoop of the limb as Yuuri's body fell into a turn. It was just a simple pirouette, but even by professional dancers with years of practice Victor had never seen any so beautiful. He was probably biased, though. When it came to Yuuri, Victor had never been able to hide or deny a bit of blatant favoritism, as Yurio could loudly attest to. 

Immediately, Victor was drawn into the familiar siren song that was the music of Yuuri’s body. He was wearing the unselfconscious expression his face would fall into sometimes when he was on the ice by himself, a man enjoying every moment of the simple pleasure of movement. It was that contented look that had been why Victor had first become so intrigued by the younger skater; a mona lisa smile, and Victor had wanted to know all of the secrets behind it.

It was easy to recall the feeling Victor had had when he first watched that video of Yuuri, even months later now. It wasn’t the first time a novice skater had recorded themselves doing one of Victor’s routines, and he had watched many such videos himself to see what interpretations others would make of his choreography. But for the most part they hadn’t actually been interpretations as much as skaters practicing by doing his complex routines for the purpose reviewing their own videos for mistakes, and while fairly interesting they had never been captivating for Victor to watch. 

Yuuri, though… Yuuri’s had very obviously been something different. Victor had watched Yuuri skate and seen an expression of  _ love _ . Love for the ice, and everything figure skating gave a person. Love for whoever he had been performing for, an old partner he longed to dance with again. And love for Victor himself, or at least for his art. Yuuri’s video had been a love letter Victor was never meant to lay eyes on, and he’d been so enraptured he’d been compelled to travel twelve hours on a plane to meet the person who could come in dead last in the first round of the Prix and yet somehow, move like  _ that. _

Yuuri landed from a jete en avant jump a little unsteadily, and opened his eyes again while he wobbled to regain balance. It was enough for Victor to realize he had been staring again, and he busied himself with some simple battement exercises for his legs in hopes that Yuuri would think he was actually working if he looked over here.

He apparently fooled no one, because in the middle of a little jete hop to get back onto his feet Yuuri raised an eyebrow to Victor and asked, “Actually, have you even trained in ballet before?”

“Ah, only a little,” Victor admitted. Yuuri’s hips, he noted absently, must have gained some flexibility over the last weeks because that right leg extended  _ quite  _ impressively in the air. “I’ve studied every kind of dancing, but I preferred to focus on tango.” He let go of the barre to test out the slow sustained movements of a bit of adage, sliding his feet around to transfer his weight to one foot and then back to try to regain the memory of how exactly he was supposed to move them. “But my roots aren’t in dance like yours. When I can’t get to ice and need to practice my preference is actually gymnastics.”

Yuuri looked startled at that, blinking owlishly with both arms still raised above his head and a knee half cocked in the air mid-step. “Eh? You’re a gymnast?” He looked down at his own feet for a moment, as if surprised to find they’d stopped moving. Slowly dropped one arm to change from fifth position to fourth while he resumed dancing, idly asking Victor “What’s your specialty?”

“Rings,” Victor answered, pleased when Yuuri cast an assessing eye over the length of his arms and shoulders.

“That takes a lot of upper body strength,” Yuuri commented, sounding impressed. And then, in a more considering tone, “You could probably lift me up pretty easily, huh?”

The first thought that entered Victor’s mind was not one he was particularly proud of. Visions of things he and Yuuri might do while standing up or against a wall flitted behind his eyes for a moment, familiar fantasies of skin-on-skin. Banishing the tantalizingly dirty ideas to the back of his brain, Victor instead allowed himself to preen outrageously. “A cute little porkchop like you is of course no problem. I could carry you in my arms for hours.”

An amused snort of laughter huffed out of Yuuri’s nose as he slowly danced his way closer to Victor. “I’ll remember that if I plan to go blackout drinking. But for right now, I thought…” Yuuri’s inherent shyness rose back to the surface in the form of a blush, and his eyes flickered away from Victor’s for a moment while he extended his hand. When he finished the thought he had regained his confidence, looking Victor straight on to ask “...That you could dance a pas de deux with me?”

In an instant Victor felt his heart go out of control, pounding uncomfortably against his chest. He’d liked to have been suave and graciously accept the offer, sweep Yuuri into his arms and off his feet. But so taken aback was he by Yuuri’s forwardness in asking Victor to dance  _ with _ him, he ended up tripping over the words “I… I’ve never danced ballet  _ with  _ anyone before. I don’t know the steps.”

Yuuri laughed a little, light and cheerful like a windchime. “It’s still dancing - just listen to the music. Do you know all the steps you’re going to take before you start to tango?” Yuuri backed away with a series of sliding chasse steps, one pale arm still extended out towards Victor like he was luring him to follow. Almost unable to help himself Victor did exactly that, slow steps forward towards Yuuri like a gravitational pull, inescapable and irresistible.

Apparently completely unbothered by Victor’s nervous hesitance, Yuuri stretched his leg out behind him so that he was standing arabesque, and then further until his head was dipped low and the extended hand almost reached the polished floor. And then without rising, Yuuri began to twist the foot holding him up on the ground, a slow and nearly unsteady turn while stubbornly and beautifully holding the too-low pose. When he rose again it was to into an attitude pose that seemed to lean too far to the right, and Victor finally recognized that Yuuri hadn’t just started to dance without waiting for Victor. He’d started to dance a  _ pas de deux _ , performing half a dance with the expectation that Victor would catch up and join him, filling in the empty space Yuuri was leaving for him. 

Not a siren song, Victor decided suddenly. Yuuri wasn’t a siren but a wilis, inviting Victor into a dance that would surely send him to his grave. Helpless to resist Victor joined his hand with Yuuri’s, twisting their linked arms to guide Yuuri’s body into a gentle spin. Ah, my Giselle. It would be a honor to die if it could only be in your arms.

The music from Yuuri’s ipod was sweet and happy sounding, flutes and violins matching the early morning light that warmed the studio as they filled the floor with their footsteps. Yuuri’s waist was slim and firm under the flat of Victor’s palm, and he directed the dance into as many lifts and holds as he could excuse as reasonable for the pleasure of the few seconds of contact he was rewarded with. That he could dance with Yuuri like this was amazing enough as it is, but the fact that it was Yuuri who had insisted made Victor wonder if he hadn’t perhaps landed himself in a dream. 

Yuuri, who drew away like a shrinking violet when Victor tried to get too close, but who had hugged Victor and asked him to stay by his side. Yuuri was a mystery unlike any other Victor had ever met before, impossible to understand and unreadable even when he was trying to be direct. Victor had made himself perfectly transparent about his own feelings, but no matter how comfortable Yuuri seemed to have gotten he still had no idea where he stood with the other man. Even when Victor had directly asked what Yuuri wanted of him, even when Victor offered himself the role of lover Yuuri had still managed to coyly deflect his advances without actually rejecting him. No one else in his life had ever managed to make Victor feel so disjointed or uncertain, nor had he ever felt so completely, helplessly enamoured. 

“Too close,” Yuuri chided gently from where he was currently draped over Victor’s shoulder in a lift. Victor guided him back to the floor, where Yuuri danced away a pace or two with that fond but exasperated expression he wore for Victor, and occasionally the triplets. “You’re falling back on tango; ballet isn’t supposed to have such intimate body language.” He raised his knee to extend into a smooth ballone, not breaking the flow of dance even as he continued to explain his correction to Victor, who had followed Yuuri’s guide to back off a little bit to join Yuuri in a side -by-side brise jumps. “The cavalier’s job is to show off the ballerina and support her, I’m not supposed to be leaning on you.” Another little pirouette spin and Yuri was extending his hand toward Victor once more, who this time took it only to walk around the slowly spinning Yuuri in a promenade. “Ballet is all about poise and restraint. This sport takes some of the most physically capable women in the world and dresses them in flowers and lace and sets them on their tip-toes to make them look as delicate as possible.” Yuuri let his hand drop away from Victor’s, and danced around him so that they were doing their steps back-to-back. From over his shoulder Yuuri’s voice was clear and confident, and Victor turned his head to try to look at him but only caught soft black hair and the back of a pale neck. “You’re supposed to do ballet holds like I’m fragile. Like you’re afraid if you come too close I’ll shatter.”

Victor turned around to face Yuuri’s back while the dancer extended his arms out wide a la seconde. Victor opened his own arms to match, first matching Yuuri’s pose before he brought his arms back in, running his the tips of his fingers down the long span of Yuri’s arms as he brought his own hands back Yuuri’s waist. “If tango is about expressing passion,” when Victor’s hands had a solid, gentle hold on him Yuuri spun a longer pirouette, circling three full loops with the help of Victor’s light support helping him keep balance. The end of the last spin had Yuuri facing away from him again, and Yuuri leaned his head back to look at Victor as he finished, “...then ballet is about  _ longing _ .”

“Longing, huh?” Victor thought out loud. It was definitely a concept he had become more familiar with lately. 

Yuuri leaned his whole body backwards now, one long leg extending again in the air as he let Victor support his weight in a backwards arabesque. It was, Victor reflected, not wholly dissimilar to a dip, but completely different at the same time. Yuuri’s meaning had gotten through to Victor, so instead of a tango dip where he would have been supporting all of Yuuri’s weight on his own arm under his back, this was Yuuri mostly standing on his own. All of his weight was on that one foot still planted firmly on the floor, and Victor’s palms against his waist were only serving as an anchor to help Yuuri steady his own balance in the hold.

It was surprisingly easy to let Yuuri lead the dance. All he had to do was move and Victor would react, following every subtle gesture to let Yuuri control their pas de deux. If Yuuri met his eyes while he extended his hand then Victor was to hold it. It Yuuri arched his back, Victor would put a steadying hand on his waist. If Yuuri jumped, Victor was there to catch him. He adored every second of it, spellbound by the easy way in which they moved together. 

He had come here with claims of coaching Yuuri and guiding him in their shared art of figure skating, but once again it was Victor who found himself learning from Yuuri instead. Today it was Victor learning to dance a pas de deux, the day before he learned the actual way to tie the obi on a yukata, which it turned out he had been doing very, very wrong up to this point. Victor was even learning new things about himself all the time - never had he known he was even capable of such devotion to another person. Victor had always considered himself a very selfish person and had many of his friends playfully attest to as much, but Yuuri… For Yuuri, Victor wanted to do everything. Yuuri’s success and happiness, Victor was slowly learning, were becoming far more important to him than his own.

Victor was stepping in another reverent promenade around Yuuri’s dance, and from his distance an arm’s length away it was easy to watch Yuuri’s face. His look was one of serenity, happy and content and lost to the world around him, features soft with relaxation. It was a rare look for the usually nervous man to wear, and Victor’s heart swelled so hugely in his chest it knocked the breath out of him at the striking realization that in a way, Yuuri was wearing that look for _ him _ . Yuuri wasn’t one the ice and lost in his own universe, and he wasn’t by himself. Right now Yuuri was dancing  _ with _ Victor, looked so blissful and unbearably gorgeous because they were dancing _ together _ , and at that moment Victor truly understood with perfect clarity what the difference between ‘passion’ and ‘longing’ really was.

Nearly overwhelmed by emotion, Victor used the only available outlet to express himself right now. Knowing any words of affection would be brushed off with blush and a stutter of denial, Victor tried to communicate his love to Yuuri through their dance, a tiny desperate hope that somehow this would be how he could finally make Yuuri  _ understand. _ He took hold of that small hand in his own and used it to take over their dance, guiding Yuuri into his hands and then into the air in a high lift. He held like that, Yuuri raised above his head with one of his lovely legs halfway wrapped around Victor’s waist to help himself still. When he let Yuuri to the ground again it was to take his hand again and lead him into one final spin. He waited just until Yuuri was turned around to face him again before Victor fell to take one knee, and Yuuri dipped low into another arabesque to meet him and once again take Victor’s outstretched hand. Even knowing it was not a traditional ballet finale Victor couldn’t help but to take the chance to press his lips into a kiss to the back of Yuuri’s hand, unable or unwilling to stop himself because Victor needed so very desperately to feel Yuuri’s skin with his lips and if he couldn’t kiss him properly then at least Victor could try to express his feelings through this tiny act of worship.

Yuuri of course, blushed beet red and snatched his hand away with an embarrassed stutter. “V-victor! You’ve got to stop  _ doing  _ things like that! I’m going to have a heart attack.” Yuuri held one hand to his own chest, palm pressed over his own heart and looking anywhere but Victor.

Victor rose to stand again, taking a moment to regain his own composure by sweeping a hand through his hair and out of his face. “Well, that was a pretty good warm-up, wasn’t it?” He deflected, smothering the tiny flicker of disappointment that Yuuri had once again retreated so violently from his touch.

Yuuri smiled at him, though, and Victor was once again perfectly content with whatever tiny affection he could get. “Yeah. But you still need to work on your control.”

With all the dramatic flair in his body, Victor swooned and clutched at his heart. “It because my soul lives only for tango. I cannot help the inferno of desire raging within my heart.”

He was rewarded with a laugh from Yuuri, and Victor swooned a little bit for real at the sound. “Okay, then,” Yuuri offered with a shy but happy smile. “How about I help you refine your ballet, you teach me to tango, and when we dance we’ll end up somewhere in the middle?”

Nothing had ever sounded so perfect to Victor in his life.

**Author's Note:**

> The title is another reference to the ballet Giselle.  
> Hilarion is a man who has been in love with the maiden Giselle in secret, but loses his chance to confess when she falls in love with another man at the harvest festival. When Hilarion finds out said lover is secretly a nobleman who is already engaged to another woman, he tells Giselle. The shock is are too much for her weak heart and Giselle dies from heartbreak. When Hilarion goes to her grave to mourn the wilis appear, and Giselle among them. The wilis draw Hilarion in to dance with them all night until his body gives out from exhaustion and he, too, dies. In the end, the lover Adelbrecht is drawn into the wilis dace too, but is saved by Giselle's love for him and lives through the wilis spell, giving Giselle peace in death.


End file.
